Re-educated
by Windchimes of Maple
Summary: Adrian. She wanted to scream for him, but only water bubbled inside her throat. Adrian, I love you. Adrian, I'm sorry.
1. Drip, Drip, Drip

**_Here's an AU/Future (?) oneshot of Sydney being taken to re-education. I know it's been done a lot, which is why I focused it more on Sydney rather than Sydrian being reunited post re-education. Let me know what you think. I should also mention that this idea stemmed from stupid tags on tumblr, the Host trailers, Radioactive by Imagine Dragons and general shenanigans between myself and the lovely Garet, who roleplays the Adrian to my Sydney for this. _**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodlines, Vampire Academy or anything recognizable._**

* * *

**_I'm waking up to ash and dust  
I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust  
I'm breathing in the chemicals_**

_**I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus**_  
_**This is it, the apocalypse**_  
_**Whoa**_

_**I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones**_  
_**Enough to make my systems blow**_

* * *

_Drip. Drip. Drip. _

A drop. A drop is column bounded, completely or almost completely by free surfaces. A drop may form when liquid accumulates at the lower end of a tube or other surface boun-

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Drops were formed by blood. Drops were formed by glucose. Drops were formed by rain.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Rain. She danced with him in the rain. It never rained in Palm Springs but it did that day and they danced in the rain.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Rain was water. Jill controlled water. Water was controlled by magic. Magic was bad.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

But his dreams were magic. How could they be bad? They weren't bad. They were -

"Sydney."

She looked up sharply, her eyes automatically trying to squint against the bright light being shone into them. Cold, methodical fingers pried her eyelids apart to get a better look into her pupils. Left eye, then right eye. Click, then darkness. But it wasn't really dark outside. The boarded up windows had a strip of glass on top, to allow ventilation and thin rays of sunshine broke through the panels to highlight the white, tiled floor. The room was as ordinary as they came - four white washed walls, a nondescript door in the north corner. There was another one on the side which led to a bathroom which had nothing except a shower head, a drain, a toilet and a basin. There were no mirrors, but she was glad about that. If she saw herself, she knew she'd scream. Inside the room was one bed, rubbery mattress on, like a hospital bed - it made the blood easy to wash off. White sheets, crumpled with sweat and drops of red, upon which was one flimsy pillow. On the pillow lay her head. Beside the bed was an IV stand which was currently connected to her forearm, pumping chemicals, as a nurse - or an Alchemist who was a makeshift nurse - injected more into the bag hanging.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

"Where did you go just now?"

"Huh?" she asked, frowning. Her throat hurt because she hadn't spoken straight words in days. Screams. Only screams.

"Where's your mind, Sydney? Where are you going?"

_"Where are you going?"_

_An arm wrapped around her torso and dragged her back into the satin sheets. She smiled, letting him pull her back against his bare chest, warmth spreading from skin to skin. "Stay with me," he whispered against her neck._

_"I'm not sleeping naked," she chuckled, tilting her head as the ticklish sensation spread from her neck to her back. "Adrian," she said, wiggling a bit to get out of his grip._

_"You're not naked," he said, a finger snapping at the bra strap which was held firmly in place. She sighed, turning over in his arms to place a soft kiss on his lips. His hands came up to cup her face as he responded in kind._

_"I don't sleep in my underwear, either," she stated, hopping off the bed and going to his wardrobe. The doors opened with ease, as she ruffled through his less expensive shirts. Didn't he have anything to sleep in? _

_"Look through the laundry basket. Don't you want something that smells like me?" he asked. She turned to find a cheeky grin on his face, his head propped up on an elbow so that he could observe her moving around. Her nose wrinkled. _

_"Ew. Unhygienic," she stated. Finding his AYE shirt, she grinned and pulled it on. The sleeves reached her elbow, the hem brushing mid thigh. His amused grin faltered a bit as his eyes roamed her body._

_"Get into bed, now," he murmured, holding out a hand. She shook her head, moving back to the cupboard the grab sweatpants. They hung too loose, but she folded them a couple of times so that they stayed put. She then proceeded to slip on her shoes._

_"Don't you think that's a bit much?" he asked, an eyebrow raising. "Wait. Where are you going?" he asked, when she picked up her car keys from the nightstand._

_"I have to get my purse and jacket. It's the only stuff which isn't wet, and I'm not leaving it in the car."_

_"It wasn't my idea to go play in the rain."_

_"Yes it was. Don't worry, I'll be back in ten minutes."_

_"Get it in the morning," he groaned, grabbing her arm and pulling her down. She let him, a hand on his pillow stopping her from falling completely. She placed another kiss on his lips, smiling. _

_"I can't. It's my purse. I'll be back," she said, standing up and walking out the door._

_"You better get back, Sage. I'll kill you if I wake up alone," he called out through the bedroom. She let out an amused laugh, closing the apartment door behind her. _

Was he still looking for her? To kill her? Of course not. He was Adrian. Why would he want to kill her? _He's a monster. Why wouldn't he?_

"Sydney."

She looked at the Alchemist who was staring at her with a stoic expression. "I'm here."

"Are you?" he asked, clicking a pen as he poised it over the clipboard in his hand. The two Alchemists behind him exchanged a quick look - an eye roll. Of course. Of course, she knew what they'd be thinking. Why was he bothering with her? Let him just ask the questions and then be done.

"I am," _not_, she said. _I am not here. I am not there. I cannot _be_ because I don't know who I am._

_"_Okay. Can you tell me your name?"

"Sydney Katherine Sage. Alias, Sydney Melrose." '_Sage_.'

"Age and date of birth?"

"Eighteen years old. Will turn nineteen on February 26th." _'I'm going to bake you a cake for your birthday. A big, chocolatey, gooey lava cake and you're going to eat it. Whether you want to or not.'_

"Family?"

"Father, Jared Sage. Mother, Melinda Sage. Two sisters, Carly and Zoe Sage." _Zoe. Zoe. Oh how could you, Zoe?_

"Hometown?"

"Emery, Utah."

"What was your last assignment?"

"Protection of the Moroi Princess, Jillian Mastrano Dragomir." _Jill. Oh, Jill._

"Who were the others involved in this plan, present in the field?"

"Dhampirs, Edison Castile, Angeline Dawes and Neil Raymond. Moroi, Clarence Donahue's home was a frequent visiting point. Alchemist, Zoe Sage, was also present, as was Keith Darnell at one point"

"And?"

"Adrian Ivashkov." _Oh god._

"That's right. Thank you, Sydney."

"Is that all?" she whispered.

"That's all." He nodded once at her, patting her shoulder, before he walked out of the room. The two Alchemists, who'd rolled their eyes, followed without another glance in her direction.

"Why do they do that?" she asked, her voice grating against her dry throat. Water. She wanted to - no. She didn't want water. The idea of water sliding down her throat made her want to curl up.

"Do what?" asked the Alchemist who was checking her IV and helping her settle back down. She was also not very subtle about rechecking the restraints which held Sydney to the bed.

"Ask those questions. Everyday," she replied.

"It's just a standard procedure. To make sure that you've got your story straight. We're the ones who'll be testifying that you're fit to leave the facility. So, it helps if you practice your answers -"

Sydney drowned the rest of the sentence out. Lies. All lies. They were checking to reassure themselves - to reassure that they hadn't done too much brain damage. _But they do care about you, Sydney. They're helping you._

Lies.

"I wanna use the bathroom."

"Seriously?" asked the Alchemist, as if she'd just been ready to leave. When no response came in return, she made an irritated noise under her breath, undoing Sydney's restraints. Moments like these, Sydney wondered as to why on earth she didn't just try and run. The Alchemist was a slight thing; she could pin her down and knock her out in ten seconds flat.

Because they're trained. Trained to handle people who want to run. And because there were about twenty outside, ready to stop her.

_And they're helping you, Sydney. This is good. Who will you run to if you run? Vampires?_

She shuddered, unsure if it was because of the idea of running to monsters or because a voice so unfamiliar, yet completely hers, was telling her these things in her head.

She slowly rose from the bed, her knees wobbling as her frame tried to support itself. _At least, I lost all those extra pounds_,she joked inside her head, the humor completely falling flat. She reached the bathroom door and closed it behind her. No lock, obviously. Keeping her eyes completely averted from the shower, she washed her hands and her neck. There was dried blood caked under her fingernails, and on the ends of her hair. Splashing water from the sink onto her skin, she scratched her neck to remove the blood.

An odd pain shot from her jaw to her shoulder. A small furrow appeared between her brows, as her fingers dug and kept cleaning. More water, more digging, more blood, more pain.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

It dripped onto the edge of the clean ceramic, looking like rose petals strewn on snow. Dark, tender, deadly and beautiful. Then it swirled into the water, and down a drain in a confusing whirlpool. More cleaning, more blood.

There was an odd muffled sound from behind her, but she ignored. She had to keep cleaning, she couldn't stop, she mustn't stop. The door opened, shaking on it's hinges. Fingers clawed on her forearm, pulling her hand away from her neck.

"What are you doing? You're making it worse!"

Huh?

"Come here. You've dug out whatever new skin was forming. Sit," the Alchemist chastised, pushing her roughly on the bed as she worked to take out gauze and tape. Oh.

A bandage was applied to her neck and she was pushed down once more, restraints wrapping around her wrists.

"Try and sleep, until dinner time. You'll need it."

The door was shut. Darkness.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Sydney's eyes traveled to the translucent bag of fluids flowing into her bloodstream, each drop tantalizingly slow, almost tangible. Her eyes felt heavier with every passing second. Maybe she was falling asleep. Maybe she was finally dying. Either one would be blessed relief. Her eyes slid shut, a backdrop of black laid out in front of her.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._ It echoed in the silence, reminding her of water, more than any chemical.

_"What can you possibly do to scare me?" she asked, her voice as cold as steel, her entire body writhing as they pinned her down to the bed. Gone was level headed Sydney, who would nod and try and co-operate until she could find a solution to the problem. Her fingers were curled, attempting to scratch the bands from around her wrists. Her wet hair - it had still been raining when she'd gone to her car; the rain they'd danced in, the rain they'd grabbed her from, the rain which now soaked her hair, her body, the kisses he'd left on her back, the AYE shirt which clung to her skin - was splayed out on the pillow, making her head feel heavy. The tall Moroi in the corner of the room watched her with eyes wide - not out of shock, just horror. As if she couldn't believe that they'd do something like this to a human, as if she wasn't in on the plans they had for her. Pretending to be human while she was really a monster._

_That stopped her short_.

_Was she already seeing these vampires as monsters now?_

_When the restraints were tight enough, the girl walked forward, kneeling over Sydney's figure. She touched the water droplets on Sydney's face. Sydney moved her head away from her, frowning. "What are you doing?"_

_"Did you know that if a Moroi practices their elemental magic over and over and over again, they can practically draw their energy from even the tiniest of traces of the element they control?" the girl said, stroking the wet strands off her face. Sydney said nothing, her mind not even in the room. It was stuck on the owner of the brightest pair of green eyes, the one she'd left behind, the one who'd be waking up alone after all._

_"And?"_

_"And that wherever we find it, we can draw it all to ourselves." As she said this, Sydney's body started to get dry with every passing second. It started with her clothes, then her hair, then her skin which felt like it did on cold winter nights. Then the tears forming in her eyes, the corners of her mouth. Her throat, her tongue. It grated like sandpaper when she tried to swallow, and eventually, she couldn't even swallow. Hot, dry hair funneled down her throat with every agonizing breath, her eyes wide in horror as she realized that every single_ _drop of water from her body was being pulled away from her. Survival overrode stubbornness and she tried to shout. But it tore at her. It felt like a cheese grater was being rubbed inside her throat, and not even something as relieving as a sob could make it's way without bringing her pain._

_"And we can give it back, threefold," the girl said. Suddenly, like a damn being burst open, Sydney gasped. Her lungs burnt, as if water was entering them at the speed of a mile a minute. Her back arched off the bed, as water spluttered from her mouth, choking her. Coughs wracked her entire body as she gasped for air, her lungs burning. She was going to die. She was going to die. One minute she hadn't been here and she was going to die._

_Adrian. She wanted to scream for him, but only water bubbled inside her throat. Adrian, I love you. Adrian, I'm sorry._

_"Enough."_

_And suddenly, she could breathe again. Her sides hurt as she took mouthfuls of pure, blissful oxygen. "More, tomorrow. For now, sleep."_

Sleep? That didn't come anymore. They'd taken away her - his - AYE shirt and the idea of losing it caused her a deep sense of grief and longing and fear because she shouldn't feel grief and longing towards somebody who drank blood and wielded magic which could make you die.

Drip, drip went the chemical into her arm, numbing her insides. Drip, drip it swirled inside her heart.

_"What's that?" she asked, her throat parched as they hooked up the IV. She didn't know how many days it had been since she'd been here, but she'd had ten meals and five sessions of being dehydrated and then drowned, so she was guessing it had been a week. The blood ran in rivulets down her throat, pooling in the dip between her collar bones and sternum. But she didn't care because god, it felt so good. Who knew that the reason Strigoi couldn't drink her blood was because her magic was part of nature? Because the life force of it cancelled out their undead nature - like a stake? Because, as it turned out, magic didn't cancel out magic so her blood was harmless to Moroi. She ought to have let Sonya do the tests - this was far too much fun for it to be scary. Maybe they were taking pity on her. Her brain whirred with the endorphins coursing through her, the bite on her neck no longer throbbing. It sent tingles of pleasure down her spine._

_"Chemicals."_

_"What chemicals?" she breathed, her eyes straying to the Moroi who stood next to her, discreetly wiping the blood from his lips._

_"They suppress your pituitary gland."_

_She nodded, not even trying to follow. Who cares what they were trying to suppress. As long as she - wait, what? Tenth grade Biology buzzed through her brain as she attempted to remember what that gland did. Come on Sydney, remember. Remember. Her eyes closed, pulling up a chart which her father had taught her. What had it said? What had it - thyroid control, growth, blood pressure. They were, what, sedating her? More functions buzzed through her mind. Sex organ functions, water regulation, temperature regulation, pain r - she gasped. Pain relief. Her eyes went wide, confused._

_"What? But wait, that's the organ which -"_

_"Releases endorphins. You've seen the good parts of being bitten by a vampire, Sydney. I'm guessing these are the parts which drew you into befriending them in the first place."_

_"N-no, they never, he would never -"_

_"Regardless," he continued, as if she hadn't said anything. "It's our job to teach you what's right and what is wrong. This is wrong. They are wrong."_

_"NO! What you're doing to me is wrong. That's what -"_

_"I'll be back in ten minutes to see how you're doing."_

_"NO! You can't just - NO! WAIT! COME BACK!"_

_Her fingers struggled to rip the IV out, but the cuffs around her wrists dug into her skin. Pain seared across her arms. A sob built into her throat at the sensation. Cuffs. Cuffs were causing this kind of pain. Then what would -_

_That thought never finished. It was too clouded by the shriek which escaped her as fangs entered into her neck again._

Her eyes flew open, mind too agitated to continue trying to sleep. The dust motes in the air swirled through the thin beam of light and she found herself finding patterns in them. Patterns, patterns,patterns in the light. Patterns to follow. Patterns to draw. He liked to draw. He liked to paint. How could something so inhuman like something so simple as painting?

But was he inhuman? Was she inhuman?

Blood dripped through the flimsy bandage, wetting her neck. Wet like water, wet like rain, wet like blood through her veins. A rhyme. No reason. How odd.

They hadn't healed her today. Why? They got in a Spirit user to heal her every time so that there was a blank canvas to present to the next candidate. Why no Spirit user today? Spirit User. He was a Spirit User. Spirit drove him mad, too. It destroyed him, why wouldn't it destroy her? Monsters, they were all monsters. Their magic was death, their bites were poison.

Adrian.

Painter.

Royal.

Moroi.

Spirit User.

Lover?

No.

Monster.

A shudder ripped through her body. Why? Did her body reject the idea of loving him? Did it reject the idea of him being a monster? She didn't know? She knew nothing. What was her name, again?

Sydney Sage.

Sage.

_Sage._

The door opened and closed again. She looked up, as the Spirit User came to sit beside her on the bed. He was nice. He sometimes talked to her when everybody left, and held her hand when she cried. He said he knew him -_him_.Or, knew of _him_ at least. He said they went to school together, but _he_ wouldn't remember. _He_ was in a different crowd. Party crowd. Crowd with beautiful girls. Anger flashes through her. Jealousy. Why? Jealousy reminds her of Rose. Roses are red. Blood is red. He'll take her blood now.

"Sorry, I'm late."

She shook her head. She was okay with her only friend being late. At least, he was here now.

"You didn't heal me today," she whispered. He slowly pulled away the bandage, wincing at what must be the damage left by her own nails. Two simple fang marks,warped into ripped flesh.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. You can fix it now."

"I can't."

Confusion. Why?

"Why?"

"Because the easy part's over. The tough part starts now."

Tough? Now? She laughed. How odd, she hadn't laughed in ages.

"What?"

"I can't heal you every time. It's not painful."

"Not painful?"

"It's not pain if it gets taken away."

A sob bubbled into her throat again. Tears pooled in her eyes and slid down her temples. He sighed, but didn't say anything. She cried harder, her wrists turning inside the cuffs.

"I want Adrian."

"He's not here."

"I don't care."

"He's not here, Sydney."

He stood up, shifting, as she started to writhe harder. Her hands were turning red now, from scraping and scratching and the IV was shifting around. The drips were turning spotty as she jostled the bag and he pinned her shoulders down.

"Stop."

"NO!" she cried out, sobbing louder as the pain from her wrists, shot to her shoulders, to her neck, to her head, to her heart, everywhere.

"Sydney, I'll take as little as possible, okay? I'll try not to - "

"NO!" she screamed louder.

"Stop shou -"

"NO! ADRIAN!"

"He's not he-"

"NO! PLEASE! NO!" she cried, shuddering sobs ripping from her. He tilted her head to the side and hovered.

"I'll try not to make it hurt."

"Please don't do this," she cried, tears flowing down her face as she looked at him. "Please, oh god, please. Please. You're my friend."

"I am I -"

"I thought you were my friend!"

"Sydney -"

"MONSTERS! YOU'RE ALL MONSTERS!"

"Sydney, ple -"

"NO!"

This time, he didn't wait to say anything, just ripped open her wounds again as his fangs sunk into her neck. Muscles curled, blood rushed and everything slowed down for a second. No time, no space, no air. Just her. And then, like a vortex, pain gushed through every nerve ending until she was screaming at the top of her voice, silence shattered like the window panes of her car which she scratched on as they dragged her away.

_"Let me go!" she screamed into the dark night. "Let me go!"_

"Please let me go," she whimpered, scrambling. He pinned his knees on either side of her hips, holding her down.

_"STOP. LET ME GO."_

"Please. Stop. STOP," she cried, as his fingers curl into her arms.

_"ADRIAN!" she cried out into the night, desperate measures coming forth. But his house was too far away from him to hear._

"Adrian," she whispered, dark spots entering her sight, tunneling her vision. Noises drowned out, pain faded into oblivion and peace hovered, teasing over her head.

And, drip, drip, drip goes her blood.

Drip, drip, drip goes her pain.

Drip, drip, drip goes her sanity.


	2. Not Really

_**A/N: Well what do we have here. An update on a oneshot? I'm kidding. I was so, so, so thrilled by all your responses, I decided to convert this into a series of oneshots. They won't be in chronological order, so be warned. And I'm open to prompts, so let them rain in. -tee hee, rain in- Sorry; inside joke which hopefully will become clear by the end of this series o.O**_

_**A/N 2: There will be trigger warnings in this chapter for depression and suicide. If that is not your cup of tea, then stay away. I probably should have warned you lot that when you asked for updates, they weren't going to be fluffy in the least. Check genre again. That being said, a lot of sensitive topics will be dealt with and I will not appreciate comments which are thoughtless. I will deal with those warnings with chapters as they come. Speaking of this chapter alone, this is a topic which is very touchy for me so I ask for you to kindly refrain from any criticism other than the constructive kind. I will not tolerate comments about how unrealistic this chapter was. Such psychological experiences are different for different people. Please, do not criticize unless you are criticizing my writing. Thank you.**_

_**Prompt: Sydney contemplates ending it all and writes a letter to Adrian. (ending up to writer).**_

* * *

When they teach you to be an Alchemist, they don't teach you what it feels like to die. Sure, you're taught how to play with chemicals and words, mess with minds and matters. You're taught how to fire a gun or slip into the crowd; how to twist your words to have people believe you and twist their own so that nobody knows you're safeguarding them from a world so evil it could rain blood. When they send you for your first assignment, they teach you to be vigilant. To never trust anybody, neither in daylight nor in darkness. They tell you, _Every morning when you wake up, pray to God, thanking him that you are still alive._

But they don't tell you how it feels to wake up each morning wishing you weren't.

She doesn't blame them.

Not _really_.

Nobody's supposed to learn how it feels like to want to die – nobody's meant to be prepared for that sort of thing. If we were prepared for that agonizing feeling, it wouldn't be so agonizing. And then maybe, we wouldn't feel the need to die at all.

In the earliest days of man, it was considered the ultimate insult to God to commit suicide or glorify death. It meant you were spitting in the face of the greatest gift He could ever give you – life. No wonder they never taught her what it feels like.

But just because they didn't teach her something, doesn't mean she didn't learn. They never taught her how to see vampires as people. They never taught her how to fall in love with one. So it makes sense that if she could do those things, then she could learn to do this too.

Her legs have turned numb, sitting in the same position on the armchair, crossed underneath her, while she's curled up into the seat. There's a throw cushion in her lap, on which there's a writing pad and blunt pencil. A shawl is wrapped around her dainty shoulders. There's no sound in the tiny apartment, save for muffled footsteps in the kitchen. Their old apartment used to be noisier, not far from the _Piazza del Campa di Fiori. _But they had to move to a quieter place after she woke up, screaming, two nights in a row from the echoing sound of pitter patter over the tarp roofs of the market. Even his arms hadn't been enough to keep the nightmares away that night.

There's another muffled sound from the kitchen and she jumps a bit. He's always making some sound or the other. Loud enough to give some normalcy – to him, to her, to _them – _but not loud enough to scare her because nothing's really normal – with him, with her, or _them._

Her gaze flutters from the cloudy Rome sky and then down to the notepad. She's written down only two words. _Dear Adrian, _to be precise. She swallows roughly.

"Coffee for you," he says, placing a steaming mug on the table beside her and she looks up, startled. She didn't even hear him come in – further proof that all the noise in the kitchen was all on purpose. She almost smiles. Almost. She gives him a small thankful look instead. He smiles, but she can see his green, green eyes tighten a bit. They always do when she doesn't reply back. She pretends not to notice, as she looks away.

She doesn't blame him.

Not _really._

It's not his fault that not a single word has come out of her mouth since the day they found her.

_Adrian! Adrian...you found me._

The last sentence she'd spoken. That was seven weeks ago. There had been a moment, back in Dubai – their stop over on the way to Rome – when they'd been at a hotel and she'd watched him talking to a bellhop. Her heart had jumped to her throat and she'd gasped, stumbling into the couch.

_What? Sage?_

She'd just choked on a lump in her throat for a second or two, before composing herself. She'd stared at him, her eyes wide and filled with tears. No words. But the meaning had been clear: _Am I really free? Am I really never going back? Is this a dream?_

There's another muffled sound and her eyes come back to focus on the window pane in front of her. He sits on the window seat, looking out and she doesn't know what he's staring at. Something tells her that even if he shows her, she won't see. There's some things which make themselves visible only to artists. Just like how she can't show what she sees either – because there are only some things which make themselves visible to the broken.

Silence finally envelopes them and she picks up the pencil, looking down at the two words. The handwriting is a bit shaky and out of use. But it's nothing he won't understand. The words are floating around in her head, the resolve clear. Nothing transfers to paper without sounding cliché, or worse, desperate. She doesn't want to sound weak. She doesn't want to sound helpless. She just wants him to understand that she wants her freedom – the kind of freedom that this world can't give her. She doesn't want him to think she gave up. She just wants to let go.

_Dear Adrian,_

_I don't really know what to write because somehow, no amount of words in my vocabulary would be enough to explain to you how I feel right now. Okay, that's not true. There are about fifteen thousand words I can come up with if I had the time. Sad. Alone. In Despair. Empty. Hurt. Haunted. Broken. Unrepairable. Tainted. The list goes on. But they don't really describe what I'm feeling, do they? I can paint – metaphorically – a picture of how much everything hurts right now and you wouldn't get it until you were sitting in my place, seeing the things I've seen._

_I'm not saying you wouldn't try to understand. I know you'd try your best. You always try your best when it comes to us. But it's not enough. I'm not saying that you're not enough for me._

_I'm not enough for you._

The pencil stops moving for a second and she considers crumpling the paper and throwing it out the window. It's pathetic, to be honest. Just like she is, right now, sitting here and writing a goodbye letter to the only person who she's ever really loved and the only person who she knows won't give up on her.

"What are you writing?" he asks. She looks up. She didn't even realize he was staring at her. She doesn't say anything and he doesn't push her. But he's got a hopeful look in his eyes just like he always does whenever he asks her something. Like, maybe, this time she'll have something to say. No words suddenly spill from her lips, although there are millions swarming inside her head. No. She doesn't use her voice anymore. It's been used for so long for screaming that it doesn't really have another purpose anymore.

She shrugs. He turns back to look outside the window. Her pencil starts scratching across the page again.

_It's not fair for me to do to you what I'm doing right now. I'm useless. I don't talk, I barely eat, I barely sleep. I can't shower without wanting to scream and I can't drink water on my own because I'm scared I'm going to die choking on it. I can't move around town on my own because I'm some sort of fugitive from the people who brought me up and the ones who happened to make me this mess. I'm not the girl you fell in love with. I don't even recognize myself, I don't understand how you recognize me._

_I'm barely me anymore. I'm barely a person. I wake up thinking it's another dream and I'm back there; or sometimes I wake up hoping I'm dead. Because death has got to be better than what I'm living now._

_It's not that I want to die. I just don't want to live._

She freezes, once again, as she stares at the words she's written. She reads them over and over and over again until they don't even look like words anymore. _I just don't want to live?_ She asks herself, silently. _He's going to think you're some sort of lunatic. He's going to blame himself for not getting you real help. _She quickly scratches the last two sentences out.

_I want to live, Adrian. The life I used to have, the life we had in Palm Springs. It was dangerous and it was daring and it got me into trouble, but it was a real life. I used to love, I used to hurt, to fight, to think. Now? I don't do any of that. Don't you see that? Don't you see that this person is not Sydney Sage?_

_Do you want to know how I know I'm not the same anymore? Because I don't remember a time before this. I can't. Everything I can remember, every memory is of pain._

_I can't do this to you anymore. It's not fair. How long will you have to take care of me? Six months? A year? Five years? How long till you realize that I'm no longer your partner but just a little girl who needs somebody to scare away the monsters at night?_

_I love you. I loved you then, and I love you now. But you have no idea how much I don't love myself. I'm an embarrassment, to myself, to my family, to you. You think I haven't noticed the looks people send your way when you walk with me down the street and I'm practically clinging to you because every little thing sets me on edge? The pity they have for you? Since when does Adrian Ivashkov get looked at with pity?_

"Will you show me? What you're writing.." he asks and she looks up, pencil stopping once more. For a moment, she's utterly lost. Where is she? Who is he? Who is she? _Rome. Italy. He's Adrian. You trust him. He loves you. You're his Sage. Sydney Sage. _Right. She nods, but keeps the book clutched tightly so that he gets the message. She won't show him until she's done. He doesn't push.

Her eyes turn down to the paper again. She can't get it right. The last words she'll ever speak to him and she can't get them right. Tears of frustration prickle at her eyelids and she abruptly considers ripping the paper out. Her hand crumples the sheet, but she tells herself to let it slide. She can't help but feel a little helpless now, even though she's determined to not feel that way. How is she supposed to get this right?

_I can't seem to get this right. I don't want you to think I was helpless or that I had no other way out or any of that. I want this. I want to do this. I want to stop feeling like this. I'm sorry if that hurts you, but if you really love me then seeing me like this right now must kill you more._

_I wish I could explain it in a more profound way. I wish I could flare it up in my aura for you to see. What do you see in my aura, Adrian? Surely enough darkness to cover up the golden. Surely you see why I'm doing this, why I need to do this?_

_Please don't blame yourself. Please don't. It isn't your fault that I feel like this._

_I love you._

_But I don't want to do this anymore. I don't really want to be here anymore – not in Rome, not with you, not anywhere._

_Love,_

_Sydney._

Crap. The letter is complete crap but it's all she's got. It's another glaring reminder that she isn't even articulate enough to put her thoughts in a way where they sound sensible. She carefully tears out the sheet and folds it twice into a neat little square, twisting it around in her hands. Adrian, for once, doesn't seem to be paying attention to her movements. She picks up the pencil and scribbles on top of the folded sheet. _For you. Read it later. _She stands up, walking up to him and tugging on his sleeve. He turns, an arm automatically going around her waist. She lets him pull her close. The folded paper she tucks into his other hand. He starts to open it, but she makes a sudden noise of protest under her breath, reaching out to stop him. Flipping it over, she points out the message.

"Okay, okay," he says, placing it on the window sill before turning to her completely. Her hands tighten on his shoulders. If he's surprised, he doesn't show it. Her eyes trace the lines of his face, memorizing them one last time before she leans in to kiss him. This time, his surprise is evident. His response is slightly tentative and she's alright with this. She doesn't need _him_ to kiss _her_ one last time. She already knows how he feels - _she_ just wants to kiss_ him_. Her mouth moves, not tentatively, but with a purpose. This is the kiss of a woman who hasn't been kissed in long, and a woman who will never be kissed again. She can feel his hold tighten around her and a muffled sob chokes in her airway, clouded by the sound she's making as she kisses him harder.

She pulls back abruptly, her hair falling in her face.

"Uhm, that was -" he starts, but she pulls out of his embrace. The look on his face does not come as a surprise to her. She didn't expect anything else. Her eyes fluttered down to her sleeves before she turned around.

"Sage, wait, you -"

She drowns out his words as she points to the bathroom and walks in the direction. He sighs and shakes his head, nodding after a second as he slumps back into the window seat. She doesn't know if the expression on his face is of defeat or hope. She can't tell. She slips into the bathroom, locking the door slowly so that his vampire hearing doesn't pick it up. The tiles under her feet are cold and her eyes, like always, wander to the shower head. She shudders. Her eyes travel to the mirror hanging on the wall.

The lines on her face are prominent, the dark circles sinking into her sockets. Her cheek bones stand out, making her face look jarring instead of shapely. The golden tattoo glitters there like some sick joke. Her collar bones stand out harshly and she feels ashamed for the time when she wanted to lose weight. And her eyes. Those eyes which shone like liquid gold - are nothing but matte and dead. She feels a sense of quiet peace settle around her, as her fingers slowly open the medicine cabinet. There, right behind the toothpastes and lotions and hair gel and what not, lies the bottle she'd purchased four days ago. It had been surprisingly easy getting her hands on it.

When you're a mute and your neighbors feel sorry for you after hearing you scream night after night, it's easy enough to get them to do favors - it also helps if you've had training in reading and writing foreign languages, Italian included. _Guess the Alchemists really were preparing me for this path,_ she thinks. Her fingers do not shake as she opens the bottle, her eyes mentally counting the pills inside. How many are there? Fifty? Eighty? The prescription says that one would knock her out for seven hours, in twenty minutes. How fast would she fade into oblivion if she took all?

She slowly sits down on the floor, cross legged, letting a handful of the pills fall into her cupped palm.

Her hands reach for the bottle of water she's brought along with her, breaking the seal and taking a gulp. She pops one pill in. Then another. Then another.

Four.

Five.

Six.

She's on the seventh when a sob catches her off guard, wracking through her body. She stops for a second, not understanding. Another shuddering breath leaves her body. Tears sting her eyes. Her hands abandon the bottle, sending it splashing across the floor. She shies away from it, another sob falling from her lips. Her one hand goes to her chest, to calm her racing heart down. The pills fall from her palm, skittering across the bathroom tiles. Her other hand clutches at the wall she was leaning against, as she starts to cry.

Like a fire caught to a tank of gasoline, the crushing despair chases away the numbness inside her, ripping through her with such speed that she finds herself doubling over with sobs. _Oh god, oh god, oh god what was she doing? What was she doing?_

_Suicide._

The one word makes her break down, her harsh cries echoing through the high rails of the bathroom ceiling. She doesn't know why she is suddenly crying; what has made the resolve melt into a startling sense of reality that this was _it_, she was going to end her life.

There's a sudden knock on the door which confuses her. "Sage? Please, open the door."

The doorknob rattles, and there's a fraction of a second when silence is suspended between them. "Unlock the door. I won't come in, just unlock it."

Why? Why is he here? Why is he - he read it. He read the letter even though she asked him not to. Frustration sparks through her, which gives way to more sobs. Why can't he ever do what he's told? Of course he'd read it early. Relief and irritation clash in painful ways inside her chest as she crawls to the door leaning against it. If she hears carefully enough she can hear his breathing on the other side, feel the fractional tilt of his weight pressing against it.

"Sydney."

Her hand blindly reaches for the knob and twists it. She hears him try the door again and she scuttles away from it, just as it opens. His expression is relaxed, calm, collected - almost playful. Like this is all a joke. Like she's not really doing what they both know she's doing.

"There, that wasn't so bad. I was just -"

Her legs skim the spilled water on the floor and she scrambles away, towards him. His arms go around her without hesitation but she can see the horror unleash in his eyes. His gaze travels over the scattered pills on the floor and he turns to her. She looks down, away, ashamed for some unknown reason. She feels exactly the things she doesn't want to feel: helpless and desperate.

His fingers tug at her chin and she doesn't respond, shying away from him. For once, he doesn't let her.

"Look at me. Did you take any?"

Silence.

"Sage, how many did you take?"

Silence.

"Sydney." Her chin is tilted up and his eyes are so glassy they look beautiful and fragile all at the same time. She can't tell if it's the lighting or tears. "How many did you take?"

Silence.

She feels a flash of warmth travel up her spine and she realizes what he's doing.

"STOP IT!" she screeches, pushing him away, words cracking through the air like shards of ice. Her throat burns from the sudden use of her voice and he looks so startled that he drops his hands. "Stop it."

She drops to her knees, her head shaking as she clutches her torso, unable to stand straight. "You can't fix me. Not this time. Your magic won't fix me this time," she whispers. A dark, irreversible pain moves through her chest like sludge; like a blade slicing straight through her lungs, and she finds herself unable to breathe. She chokes on her unsaid words as she cries, uncaring that he's there to see her fall apart.

Not piece by piece but all at once.

She feels his arms go around her and she doesn't hesitate to curl into his chest, sobs wracking loudly through her ribs. Her chest hurts, her head hurts, everything hurts. She's so tiny that he easily engulfs her in his embrace, which makes her ponder as to how on earth such tiny a human can hold so much pain inside them._ It's okay. It's okay._ He doesn't say the words but she knows he's going to and she shakes her head.

"It's not okay. It's never going to be okay," she cries, tears spilling from her eyes, down her cheeks and staining his grey button up a dark black. Her fingers reach up to curl into the shirt, as if holding onto him will make her hold onto herself. She doesn't need to.

He's already holding her together, whatever shattered bits of her are left inside. "I d-don't...I don't know why I'm crying. I don't where this is coming from," she mumbles into his chest where she can feel his heart beating faster than normal which is the only thing betraying how unnerving the situation must be for him. Guilt settles in the pool of her stomach, along with the other emotions which seem to suddenly be swirling there. She sniffles for a second, looking up at him.

"My aura must be a mess," she whispers, her voice coming much easier than expected.

"It's crazy but it's still golden. It's still you," he says, and she can't tell if it's a lie or the truth.

"Liar," she says, crying harder. His fingers wipe the tears with a gentleness which makes her cry harder. She falls forward again, her head resting perfectly in the crook of his neck.

"When have I ever lied to you about your aura?"

She has no response to that, mainly because her stomach feels like it's turning in on itself. It takes her a second to realize that it's more than just emotion - it's the pills and water combination coming back up. She moves to the toilet just in time, the powdery remains mixed with bile, coming out of her like acid. His hands are on her hair, but she doesn't really care if it's getting dirty or not. Her fingers clutch at her throat as the last of the few pills she took comes back up. Her abdomen twists like elastic, forcing every bit of foreign substance out. She slumps, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as Adrian moves to flush.

"Better?" he asks softly, and she can tell from the catch in his voice that this is not easy for him. None of this is easy for him at all. She doesn't apologize. She's not sorry that she tried to remove herself from the picture. She's just sorry she got caught. The realization, that she still very much lacks the will to live, makes a fresh round of sobs overtake her. She caves, her balance stumbling as she feels herself tip to the ground. But she doesn't hit the cold floor. Her head finds it's way to his lap where he holds her, letting her cry her heart out.

The crushing feeling, which suddenly overtook her, oscillates between dissipating and making itself known, leaving her breathless with every tear which slides down her cheeks. She pulls her legs up to her chest, putting her arms around herself as she tries to fade out.

It doesn't take her long to settle back into the sense of nothingness which had enveloped her for the last seven weeks - nothing but the sound of her heart thumping and her lungs breathing. No thoughts, no emotions. No life. Dark spots corner her vision, making her eyelids heavy and she sighs. Her tightened position loosens into one which leaves her sinking deeper and deeper into an unknown pit.

"Is this what it feels like?" she whispers.

"What?"

"Dying. Am I dying?"

There's a moment's silence, before he kisses her temple.

"No, Sage. This is living."

She knows he isn't lying as much as she hopes he is. Living isn't supposed to be this empty. Living isn't supposed to be this hard and hopeless. But he isn't lying. He's never lied to her and even though he could, to give her a moment's peace, he won't.

Because he wants her to fight. She knows this. He is giving her a reason to live, presenting himself before her to remind herself that she's strong enough to fight. And right then and there, she hates him for it.

But she doesn't blame him.

Not _really._

* * *

**_-Squints- I don't know why this is so crappy. Like I said, it was hard to write. Review?_**


	3. Monsters

**Okay, here's another out take scene from Re-education. I am seriously, blown away by all the reviews I'm getting. I do ask that you remain patient though. Sydney will get her happy ending with Adrian; but it will be a slow climb and we'll get there when the time comes. I also know a lot of you want an Adrian POV chapter. I'm sorry this time it's another one from Sydney's since it's set in Re-education. But I shall try my best. It's a bit difficult for me to get a grasp of him since, essentially, these are outtakes from a roleplay plot and I play Sydney. So my idea of Adrian is not entirely my own and I'd rather not write him at all than write him Out of Character. But it doesn't mean I won't try. Until then, here you go. Also, I should point out, this came from a rewatch of the pilot of AHS: Asylum. The last quote is from there.**

* * *

The silence wakes her up. There's no sound of the footsteps down the hall, there's no sound of distant screams. There's no sound of the chemicals dripping down the IV tube. There isn't even a sound of air whispering against the ventilation panels on the top of the walls. When nothing in the room stirs, her eyes fly open.

She isn't sleeping entirely, deeply, obviously.

The chemicals in her system mixed with the nightmares keep her up all night. She actually doesn't mind. She'd rather stay awake than dream of a freedom that'll fade when she blinks.

She swallows, looking around, realizing that the silence does not signify solitude. There are four Alchemists standing around her, one of them being her father. She grits her teeth and stares at him, her eyes emotionless but the flaring heat behind her gaze palpable to her and her alone.

She plans on looking at them with level gazes but the moment she realizes that humans are not the only silent presence in the room, her body shies towards the bed rails, her neck tilting to let her hair curtain around her face. There's some shuffling and then her restraints are being undone. Stunned at how easily they slip off her bony hands, she stares at her wrists, a permanent purpling bruise circling it like a deadly bracelet. Her fingers come to touch her skin and she stares in amazement as she pokes and prods the wounded skin. The flare of pain does not startle her. She prods harder. Rough calloused hands pry her slender fingers away with surprising gentleness. The grasp seems familiar, like a fogged memory and she looks up to see her father sitting beside her, holding her hands. She stares at his stoic face, which is much more hardened compared to his hold on her hands. In fact, it's almost gentle enough to not feel.

"Sydney..." he says, slowly and she stares in awe, almost as if she's forgotten what her name is.

"Sydney, it's your father," he says, eyes wide like he's talking to a toddler and she nods along, quietly. Of course, she knows who he is. She always _knows_.

"Sydney, we want to ask you some questions," one of the Alchemists asks and her mouth opens automatically. Her throat grates dryly with every word she speaks - the only ones she speaks anymore, once every twenty four hours.

"My name is Sydney Katherine Sage, I am nineteen years old, as of -"

The Alchemist holds up a hand and she stops mid sentence, the scratch in her throat painfully obvious, like a needle on a record. He takes one step forward and she curls up her legs, knees pressed to her chest, her father's hold on her breaking. The silence closes around into her ears like cotton wool.

"Not those questions. A new question."

She blinks. New questions? The idea of something breaking the norm of her days is both impossibly tempting yet impossibly scary. Her mind, which lays quiet except when it seeks to torment her, whirs to life at the idea of what they could ask.

A shadow steps forward from behind the Alchemists and her eyes travel to it. She automatically squeaks, pressing backwards into the bed, shaking in fear. Her father's hand encloses around her wrist to pull her front but she writhes and shakes her head, tears filling her eyes. She makes a whimpering noise under her breath as her fingers start to shake. A lump builds its way to her throat and her inquisitive mind, which has woken up quickly, pushes back on itself into a defensive cocoon.

"Sydney..." the voice asks and she whimpers again, shaking her head, her eyes darting to every single being in the room; human and otherwise.

"Sydney, can you tell me who this is?" the Alchemist asks and she wonders if this is a really cruel joke. They want his name? They expect her to know his name? She doesn't know his name.

She knows what his hair texture feels like and how many flecks of grey he has in his blue eyes. She knows how he has a chip on his front tooth and how he smells at four in the evening, when the sky starts turning orange and pink and red. She knows how heated his body gets when he hovers inches over her, pinning her down and how strong and rough his hands are. And she knows how his breath feels on her neck and back, how his fangs feel when they slice into her skin like butter; how he groans low as her blood slides down his throat.

But no. She does not know his _name_.

She shakes her head slowly and her father reaches for her hand again. She doesn't hesitate to take it. She hates him. She knows he played his part in having her put here - nobody gets sent to an asylum without any consent from either immediate family or a respectable member of society who may agree to such a judgment. Jared Sage fits both these criteria. But he is the only familiarity she has from a world before the pain and she is past being ashamed for seeking comfort.

"You don't have to tell us what his name is," he reassures her. "Do you know what he is?"

She looks up, once again wondering if this is a trick question.

"Uhm.." she starts, clearing her throat, before mumbling. "Moroi."

There is a ripple of murmurs around her and she can't tell if it's approving or disapproving. The comforting hand around her fingers tightens.

"Yes. We know that. But is that _all_ you have to say about him?" the Alchemist asks and she looks, confused, from him to her father. Her father's face is a mask but there is an expectation in his eyes. Just like when she was younger and he tested her after she finished studying for the day - an answer he knows he's taught her and is waiting for her to spit out.

She hesitates before shrugging and there's another murmur. This time she can tell it's disappointment.

"Okay. What about her, Sydney?" the Alchemist asks and another shadow moves forward. This time it's a woman, and Sydney quakes in fear, her hand going to her throat, clutching it tightly as her breath comes in rapid, slow gasps.

"No," she whispers, shaking her head rapidly, struggling. Having one of them within the room is bad enough. She can't handle them both at the same time. She can't survive them both together.

"She's not going to do her bit right now. Just tell us, what she is and -"

"Moroi," Sydney gasps, nearly sobbing as her lower lip trembles. "Water using Moroi, now p-please, take them away...take.."

"Why? Are they bothering you?"

If she wasn't on the verge of screaming, she would have eyed him with daggers. She only nods, hiding her face in her arms, biting her lower lip hard. It hurts badly; bad enough to feel good.

"Why? What about them bothers you?"

_Everything_, she thinks. _The fact that they scare me so much that I can't breathe if I even think about them. The fact that they don't even bat a lash before ripping me apart using their filthy magic and vicious teeth. The fact that she uses water and he wields spirit magic and it hits too close to home since the closest friends I've ever made are a pair of spirit and water users too_.

"They hurt me," she spits out. "They scare me."

This time, there's a murmur of approval.

"That's right. They do. That makes them horrible, don't you think?" he asks.

"Yes," she mumbles and once again her throat feels like it's grating.

"And what does that make them, Sydney?"

There is a beat of silence before she whispers the word they've been waiting to hear from the moment they first dragged her here and stripped her of all her choices and sanity.

"Monsters."

The relief in the air is palpable. Another soul saved, another child of God brought back to the path after straying and stumbling off it into the dark woods. It sickens her. The glances they share, the look of approval on her father's face, the almost bored look on the vampires' faces. The nausea crawls up her throat and the voices around her tunnel out. She slowly looks at her tormentors as they share a knowing look and step back into the shadows, not hurt about being shamed but most certainly not a part of the silent celebration. It's too much for her and more words come spilling forth.

"You're all monsters."

There is a distinct halting noise. Nothing in the room stirs, save for her father's hand slowly leaving hers. As she looks up at him, she sees the deep sense of disappointment which she is more used to.

"I'm sorry, Miss Sage, but I thought you said -"

"You're all monsters," she repeats, the tears in her amber eyes shining as she looks up, still curled up but words not lacking conviction.

"_We_? Miss Sage, I believe you mean _them_ -" says another Alchemist, whom she cuts off.

"No. _You_. They've done monstrous things to me," she whispers, brokenly, convincingly. "But all of them, under _your_ orders."

"Sydney -"

"They're only Moroi. You're the monsters."

"That's enough, Sydney," her father interrupts, harshly and her tears finally spill down her cheeks, over the golden lily, as she shakes head.

"Why? You asked me. I'm only telling the truth -"

"Enough," he repeats, then stands up abruptly, signalling something. Cold hands come to put her restraints back in place. She doesn't struggle but her voice does raise in decibals, cracked shouts echoing through the high ceiling.

"Why? Don't you like hearing the truth, _Dad_?" she calls out. "Don't you -"

"They're vampires, Sydney," he retaliates, no longer concerned about appearances as the other Alchemists look on in silent horror. He turns back to look at her from beside the door. "Don't forget that. They're vampires. Inhuman. Monsters."

She smirks through the tears as her hands are once more strapped into place and she scoffs as everybody silently shuffles out.

"**All monsters are human**," she whispers to the empty air.

The silence meets her words, not pressing like before, but deafening, the sound of it eventually lulling her into a fitful sleep.


	4. Rainstorms

**Here's a somewhat fluffier chapter. Okay, maybe not pure fluff because I suck at that when it comes to drabbles and fics with nobody to help me. But I tried to make it a little more upbeat than the previous three. Adrian makes a somewhat cameo in this. I hope you people enjoy.**

**Trigger warning: I've described an anxiety attack resulting from a phobia towards the end of the chapter.**

* * *

It's almost nine-thirty when Sydney finally turns the lights off in the kitchen and living room, retreating to the bedroom for the night. She is by no means an early sleeper, but Adrian's not at home, so she has nothing to do other than get into bed and read a book. Her shift the next day isn't until the afternoon, anyways. The Roman winter is harsh this time, the rains starting mid November, something which has never been easy for Sydney. Snow she can handle. Nobody expects her to go out in it. It's soft, and if she wears the absolute right shoes and clothes, when it finally melts, it feels like after a bath. But rain? No. The sounds of it splattering constantly…she can't stand it. She can tell it's going to rain tonight too, as she closes the bedroom curtains and turns on the lights. She wishes Adrian were home to keep her company. There's only so much distraction a book or television can provide. He said he'd be home early, but the rains have a tendency of catching the city off guard sometimes.

It doesn't help that it's gotten so dark. She's always nervous when he doesn't come home before sunset. Despite knowing that he can take care of himself, she fears for him in the darkness. Who knows how many Strigoi roam the streets? She'd really like it if he weren't another unfortunate victim. The horrifying possibilities which enter her mind leave her dizzy as she brings out her phone to text him, asking him to come home as soon as possible, and to take care. Then she turns on the television, tuning into the weather forecast and leaves it on low volume. Moving to the bathroom, leaving the door open, she brushes her teeth while trying to figure out if she should stay up and wait for Adrian or not. There's a full chance she might actually not even sleep until he's home. But more than that, she's scared of falling asleep. What if he needs something and she's passed out? Or more likely, what kind of dream world would she fall into with the sound of rainfall as her background music?

Pushing her hair back with a headband, she goes into the cabinet to look for face wash. But the next second a high pitched shriek shatters the air. And then, a second later she can hear the crack through the sky, thunder rumbling in the distance. She freezes in place. No. No, no, no. Not a _storm_. Please, no. She can feel her surroundings drown out around her. The noise of the tv, the muffled honks of cars on the street, the music CD she put in and forgot all about. Everything muffles as she clutches the sink, closing her eyes. Dark spots approach the side of her vision and she thinks she feels her lung clench. She would've stayed there too, if another scream hadn't torn through to her consciousness.

In her haste, Sydney knocks over half the things in the cabinet, running out the bathroom and down the hall. She knows that voice; she'd know it anywhere in the world. Her heart jumps to her throat as she throws open the door to Clara's room, only to find her daughter sitting up in bed, clutching the blanket and shaking. She quickly sits next to her, opening her arms for the four year old who crawls into her lap, clutching her tightly.

"Sh-Sh-Shhhh…." she whispers to her, her voice shaking as Clara tucks her head in the crook of her neck, hands curling tightly in her shirt. She slowly rubs the little girl's back, the other hand cradling her head and patting it softly.

"Make it go," Clara sniffles, crying and Sydney can feel her heart breaking as she holds her trembling body close.

"Shhh…baby, it's okay," she says in her ear, kissing her head. "It's n-nothing. It's just a rain storm." God, she feels like such a hypocrite saying it. This isn't her job. This part is up to Adrian. Just like the bathing and the dishwashing, she never bothers fighting him when it comes to dealing with water stuff. But he's not here right now and she refuses to let herself succumb while her baby needs her. It is not an option. She suppresses the nausea bubbling in her stomach and swallows.

"I d-d-don' like it!"

"I know. I know."

"I's so l-loud," Clara cries and Sydney nods, wiping her eyes. She's taking shuddering breaths and it makes her heart clench. She _hates_ seeing Clara cry. It feels like somebody's crushing her on the inside. Of course the storm would scare her. Not only does she not understand it, but her dhampir hearing magnifies it.

"I know, but it's only water," she whispers, her words getting lost somewhere in the -

_drip, drip, drip, dri_ - no. No. She will not, she _cannot_ go there right now.

"_You_ don' likes water!"

Sydney looks down at Clara, flicking the lamp on her table on. The dull pink from the nightlight gets washed out by the louder yellow, highlighting the little girl's bloodshot hazel eyes. Eyes that are so, so observant that Sydney isn't sure who she gets them from, her or Adrian - two people who both look at things nobody really glances at, but see different meanings which nobody really understands. Adrian had been right. They _had_ created such a perfect child, it wasn't fair to the world. And Sydney doesn't care because this perfect child is theirs and she will love her forever. From that first morning when she'd thrown up her _coffee_, she'd promised to put her child before herself and she'll be damned if she lets some _water_ break that promise.

"Look at me," she says and Clara sniffles and pulls away to stare at her. Sydney tilts her head to the plastic cup of water kept on her bedside table. It has mini dragon stickers on it. Adrian had said something about a tv show - American Dragon..something - when they bought them. Sydney had just been reminded of Hopper so she hadn't minded in the least. "Does _that_ look scary?" she asks.

Clara shakes her head a little. Sydney dips her fingers in it and flicks them a little, splashing a few drops on her daughter's cheek. She giggles, a sound which sounds slightly choked from the sobbing, but pleased nonetheless.

"Momma!" she says, exasperated, wiping her cheek.

"Was that scary?" Sydney asks, quickly wiping her fingers on her pajama pants, absent mindedly scrubbing it dry.

"No."

"Well, what's happening outside is just the same. Except it's much more. Like tons of showers all at once," she says. Just then, lightning shines through the window again and Sydney closes her eyes, bracing for the thunder that will surely follow. On cue, it does and Sydney tightens her arms around Clara, who screams again.

"What that?" she cries, all amusement gone again.

"That's…that's lightening," Sydney mumbles in return. "It's a little confusing but it's like electricity. You know the stuff that makes our lights go on and the oven cook food?" she asks, and Clara nods a little, pointing to the switch. Sydney feels a spark of pride.

"Exactly. It's the same stuff that goes on in the wall behind that switch. Except it's up in the air and it looks scary because there's no wall to hide it."

"I don' likes it," Clara protests, crawling out of her lap and crossing her arms, her lower lip trembling. Sydney gives her a sad look and pulls her close again.

"You don't have to like it. But you don't -"

"You don' likes -"

"Like."

"You don' like it," she whines, a hint of accusation in her voice. After all, how is it fair for her to be forced into being okay with a rain storm while her mother cowers from water? Sydney bites her cheek, trying to think of the appropriate thing to say.

"No," she allows, after a moment. "I don't. But that's because of something we'll talk about when you're older." _As if that'll ever happen_, she thinks to herself.

"You know what's the same about you and me though?" she says, tipping Clara's chin up to look at her eyes.

"What?"

"That scared feeling? It's all in here," she says, softly tapping Clara's temple. Her daughter bites her lip apprehensively, listening patiently. "And not out there. So, next time you hear the loud lightening, I want you to pretend it's somebody taking a picture from the sky okay? It won't feel scary anymore. Just like a camera flash." It's not the most original explanation. It's what her mother told her when she was a kid, and - Nope. Thinking of her family doesn't help either. _This_ is her family now. She looks back at Clara who seems to be lost in thought.

"Like Thor?" she finally asks.

_And this is why I am not the creative one. _Sydney can only bless the fact that Clara has inherited her dad's love for Marvel (which had passed onto her too, but she'll never publicly admit so). She feels another spark of pride, for the connection she's made.

"Yes, yes it can be Thor. That's a very smart idea," she says, sliding off the bed and kneeling down beside it. Clara lies down and Sydney tucks her in once more, pushing some of the dirty blonde hair off her face. It had been brighter when she'd been a baby, which makes her wonder if it's going to become much darker by the time she grows up. She sighs, stroking Clara's cheek lightly.

"Are you going to be okay?" she asks, lowering her volume and turning off the lamp. Once again, the room drowns in a pink glow.

"Yeah."

"Okay, baby. Good night." She kisses Clara's head and stands up. But a tiny hand latches onto her wrist.

"Momma?"

"Yeah?" she asks, kneeling down next to the bed again.

"It's only water?"

"Yes. Just water."_ Hypocrite._

"So I can like it?"

"You can absolutely love it."

"Like the cup?"

"Just like the cup. Nothing to feel scared of."

" 'M not scared of water," Clara declares and Sydney smiles a little, nodding.

"That's good. So do you not like water?"

"No. That's silly."

Sydney's mouth drops open at her daughter's cheeky expression, a surprised laugh escaping her lips.

"Clara Althea Ivashkov. Did you just call your Momma silly?"

Clara giggles at that, which turns louder when Sydney pokes her nose. She doesn't even care that her daughter finds aquaphobia silly - probably because she doesn't understand the concept of phobias. She's just glad she's stopped crying.

"Let's do this: If you still feel scared, you can come to Momma and Daddy's room and sleep, okay? Just for tonight."

"Keep your door open?"

"Clara -" she hesitates. It's an unspoken rule that their room door is always closed after bedtime, when Adrian isn't home. She's taught Clara from a young age that closed door means no going in without knocking. It isn't because of her and Adrian's love for sexy time - they have a lock for that, and always make sure Clara is either not at home or sleeping. It's her fear of her daughter walking in on her halfway through an aquaphobic episode or some sort of flashback moment. Especially on a stormy night.

"But -"

"Baby, you know that even if the door is closed, Daddy will still hear you, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Let's do this. I'll keep _your_ door open and leave the hallway light on for a while. And I'll leave my door without the lock okay? So you can come to me anytime you want."

"Okay," Clara concedes, snuggling her blanket.

"Goodnight baby."

"G'night Momma," she says, and Sydney bends forward so Clara can kiss her cheek. Then the four year old closes her eyes and whispers to her pillow, "G'night Daddy."

Sydney stays for a few more seconds before she walks out of the room, turning on the hallway light just like she's promised. Once she's back in her room, the door closed behind her, she allows herself to sink to the bed, her head falling in her hands. Her heart is thudding so hard, something she'd barely noticed when she was in the other room. It is racing against her ribs, making her feel lightheaded. She_ needs_ a distraction. She stands up, pacing the room, shaking out her hands as if that will get rid of her jitters. When is Adrian going to come home? Her eyes go to her phone and she's surprised to find it lit up. _7 missed calls. _She scrolls through her messages, the latest ones from Adrian, in addition to the missed calls.

_Why rnt u answering?_

_R u alright? Pls pick up._

_Call me back, Sage. _

_Sydney?_

She dials the number she has memorized, tapping her foot impatiently as she waits for him to answer.

"Hi -" she starts but is cut off right away.

"Where were you? Are you okay?" He sounds worried and she doesn't blame him. He has seen first hand what water does to her - especially running water which makes a lot of sound.

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't hear the phone," she whispers into the receiver, closing her eyes and latching onto his voice.

"I'll be home soon. It took a bit longer with the rain storm," he replies but she can hear that note in his voice, that note when he's suppressing all his real emotion to make it look like he's calm and collected and she can lean on him. He wants to be here too. She can tell.

"Yeah, alright. I was just going to go to bed," she reassures him.

"Why didn't you answer?" he asks again.

"Clara. I was tucking her in."

"Now? Shouldn't she already be in bed?" He sounds surprised, and his voice is a little muffled since he's probably checking his phone for the time.

"She couldn't sleep. The storm was scaring her. She's okay now. I told her if it gets bad, she can keep sleep with us for tonight. So if I'm asleep by the time you come, don't lock our door."

"Are you sure -"

"Yes, yes I'm okay. Just hurry up as much as you can without being reckless, okay?"

"Okay, Sage," he sighs. "I love you. Call me if you need me."

Her voice catches around the tight knot in her throat, but she coughs, clearing it.

"I love you too."

"I mean it."

"I know."

She puts her phone back on the nightstand, still a ball of nervous energy. But after hearing his voice she feels five times better. She takes the remote to turn up the music CD she has once again forgotten about and goes back to the bathroom to finish her night time ritual. It's no cakewalk, the sound of rain echoing through the tiled room, adding to the rush of water through the tap as she brushes her teeth as quickly as possible. By the time she's done, she's shaking again. She hates this. She hates feeling so weak, so helpless. She's an adult, she's one of the smartest people of her age, she's a human married to a spirit using vampire, she's a mother. Why does something as _silly_ as water have to be her undoing? She shuts the tap and shakes her head, tears bubbling to her eyes. Her legs are shaking, which has her sinking to her knees, as she presses her forehead to the edge of the sink.

_Deep breaths_. She has to take deep breaths. It's not easy as she sucks in air through clenched teeth over and over. Her insides seem to be glueing and twisting together, her heart pounding so hard that for a second she's worried she'll have a heart attack. She closes her eyes, clinging to the cold ceramic of the sink, focuses on the cool tile under her knees, tries to imagine Adrian's voice, tries to remember her daughter who's completely dependent on her right now.

_Deep breaths, Sage_. His voice echoes in her head and she takes another breath, in the through the nose, out through the mouth. She can hear the water outside, she can…it's dripping down the window, down the window sill. She can hear it -

_Drip, drip, drip_

_No. No, stop it, _she thinks, putting her head in her hands. The music CD changes to another track - a louder, upbeat track and she tries to concentrate on the words instead. The music isn't too fast and disorienting; nor is too mellow to tune out. She tries to concentrate on the lyrics. Who names a song Radioactive anyways? Radioactivity is the process by which a nucleus of an unstable atom loses energy by emitting particles of ionizing radiation and a material that spontaneously emits this kind of radiation is considered radioactive. Apparently the singer was putting himself in that category too. She wonders if Adrian bought that CD only because the band title had the word 'Dragons' in it. She tries to listen to the lyrics and pick them apart, to figure out what the song writer exactly meant when he said _radioactive_. But all she can hear is -

_Drip, drip, drip_

She presses the heels of her palm to her eyes, almost rocking back and forth as she concentrates harder on the lyrics, her throat closing up. She really, really wishes somebody could just make the rain go away. A trail of sweat breaks across her skin, running down her neck and back. It feels uncomfortable in the chill of the weather, tangling through her long hair and her thick shirt. It's Adrian's shirt, actually, but she stole it years back when they were taking care of a few months old Clara and her regular, immaculate clothes were annoying her. She never felt the inclination to give it back. She bunches her hands in it and presses her face into it. She tries to imagine it smelling like it did when she first borrowed it. Like Adrian's cologne faded through the laundry soap. Like the smell of Clara's baby powder. Like the people she loved the most in this world.

Eventually, funnily enough, it's the sound of her heart thudding that drowns out the sound of the rain. She listens to it. She tries to count it again and again until it comes down to normal. She can do this. She can do this. She takes a deep breath, pressing a wet towel to her face and neck as she walks out of the bathroom on shaky legs. She comes to a stop as she notices the slight bundle under her usually neatly made bed. Suppressing a smile, she yawns very audibly as she closes her room door again and turns off the music and TV.

"Well, it's getting really late. I should go to sleep. Clara's asleep," she says out loud, tip toeing to the bed. The carpeted floor makes it easier. Given Clara's sensitive ears, it makes it useless for Sydney to ever sneak up on her. It took her a long time to learn to move quietly when Clara was a baby, who used to wake up so easily. The bundle under the cover shifts a little. Sydney flops down dramatically on the bed, sighing.

"Too bad there's already somebody in my bed," she says, pulling the covers off, wriggling her fingers over Clara's tummy. The little girl shoots up with a squeal, giggling madly as Sydney pulls her closer and tickles her harder.

"M-Momma stop!" she squeaks, laughing hard. The older blonde laughs along with her, her heart hammering now for a different reason, from glee as she hears her daughter's laugh drown out all the other noises in the room, and outside it. There's just the sound of their laughter in the air. She stops after a few seconds, when Clara turns breathless.

"You were awfully quick to come over," Sydney says, sighing and catching her breath as Clara huffs.

"It got loud," comes a weak protest, coupled with round puppy dog eyes. Sydney gives her a look, and Clara pouts, burrowing into the covers, peeking at her from under them.

After a moment, Sydney chuckles, turning off the lights and getting under the covers herself. She pulls Clara to the middle of the bed, putting an arm around her, humming under her breath.

"Come on, you. Close your eyes. Daddy's going to love this."


	5. Nonexistant

**Haha what's this now? Two updates within twenty four hours? Oh well, I just had muse. This is still a bit angsty but not very tragic in nature. Just something that needed to be done.**

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Sydney's stomach was flipping and she knew it wasn't the coffee she'd had that morning. She'd actually come to realize that if she brewed it _just_ right with _just_ the right amount of milk and sugar, and had it at least an hour after breakfast, she could stomach it. It had taken many failed experiments to get it right. For the first few days, Adrian had just tried not to look too amused at her "adorable" expression - what on earth was even adorable about throwing up all your breakfast because of the one drink you loved in the world? But once she started to get really grumpy with the hormones and caffeine withdrawal, he'd tried to help and they'd finally found the right combination. It was the most calorific coffee she'd had but if that was the caffeine she was getting for the next seven months, she could work with it. Coffee aside though, her stomach was flipping for another reason all together.

When Sydney had first realized she needed to contact her family about being pregnant, she'd had no clue where to start. As much as she hadn't wanted to contact the people who'd stood by while she was hurt beyond comprehension, she had to for her child's safety. For starters, she and Adrian had zero clue what doctor to go to. A Moroi hospital would register Adrian's name almost right away, which would create an unwanted scandal. She was sure that his face was pretty well known by now too, if Nathan Ivashkov was doing anything with his influence to get a hold of his son. So, the Jet Steele schtick wouldn't work - especially not in a city as big as Rome. His compulsion on Moroi would only cause trouble.

If they went to a human hospital, anything dhampir-like from the fetus would send up red flags everywhere. If Sydney had been any other human who was pregnant with a dhampir, this wouldn't be a problem. Alchemists always had at least one doctor in major hospitals to cover up and take on those sort of patients' charts. But the whole point of moving to Rome had been to get away from Alchemists. She didn't want to think about being dragged back to reeducation. What would they do to somebody who had tried to escape? What would they do to her for being pregnant? What would they do to her baby? A shiver ran down her spine. This was why she needed to smooth things over with her family. If there was anybody influential enough to let her officially resign - as much as you could resign from this mess - and get her off the radar, it was Jared Sage.

Her phone buzzed with a text message and she looked at it.

_Still alone?_

She replied back.

_Yes. I've been waiting for fifteen minutes!_

_You're 20 mins early._

_Whatever…Wait. I think that's his car. I'll text you later._

_Text me in 15. Go to the bathroom, whateve. Text me in 15._

_Okay._

She turned her phone to silent and put it on the table next to the glass of water she'd had. It had been a little embarrassing to explain to the waiter, who'd come twice to take her order, that she hadn't been stood up and she really was very early. Now, she felt herself freeze in place as Jared Sage walked through the restaurant doors, his equally brown eyes scoping the room until they landed on her. Despite the fixed meeting, she felt herself tense. Last she'd seen those eyes, she was being called stupid and a vamp lover while coughing water. Not by him, but the disapproval had shone in his eyes too. And he'd done nothing to stop them from hurting her. It was guilt by association. She felt the safe ring around her- which Italy had given her - stretch and thin, making her breath falter. They'd driven all the way to Florence for this, so that he was nowhere near their home. But, it still made her feel weird.

"Sydney," was the abrupt greeting as he sat across from her. She studied him silently. His eyes were sharp, hair properly combed in place. His suit was dark grey and pressed. His dark blonde hair looked a little duller, like he'd grown a few years, but that could be her imagination.

"Sir," she said in return, clearing her throat after a second. The waiter eyed them both, obviously noting the resemblance, before he came over with a menu. Both Sydney and Jared held up a hand to refuse, both noticing the other's similar action and clenching their fist. Good lord, she really was her father's daughter.

"What do you want, Sydney?" he said after a moment, looking at her with narrowed eyes. "Why show yourself now?"

"Aren't you going to jump at me? You finally have me where you need me," she replied, unable to keep the cold tone off her voice. This was probably one of the most two sided conversation she'd ever had with her father. But if she didn't do this now, she'd never be able to do it. Also, the baby inside her pushed her to not mess this up. She wasn't just fighting for her relationship anymore. She refused to let any child of hers live in hiding or ready to run at any second. After what she and Adrian had been put through in their broken households, their kid would have a stable, loving home.

"I've had you where I need you for a long time. Did you really think we didn't know you were in Italy?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. No. No she hadn't really thought that. She was surprised they hadn't zeroed in on her earlier. It was two years since she'd run from reeducation. That was a long time to watch somebody from the shadows. It was only her and Adrian against multiple people, after all. People who clearly had experience abducting both humans and Moroi.

"And you never tried to get me," she stated.

"You're being really self important. Do you think your little scandal was the only thing we had to deal with? The Moroi world had a lot more going on than a royal brat running away with a human," her father said in return. Sydney grit her teeth at the use of the words 'royal brat' but didn't say anything.

"No. But I do happen to be your daughter. You're a prodigy. And I vanished while on assignment to protect a princess. I'm not being self important. I'm being logical."

"I don't think you understand logic, Sydney Katherine. Logic does not imply throwing away your beliefs and faith to fornicate with a demon creature," he said, the words sharp like a knife. Sydney blinked. That had been more straightforward than she'd expected.

"That's not…that's not what I'm here for -"

"What _are_ you here for? What possessed you to contact me after twenty four months?" he asked, leaning forward to look at her. For a second, Sydney thought she saw disapproval. Was it disapproval at what she was doing? Was it disapproval for breaking out of hiding? _Don't be silly_, she told herself. _If he really wanted you to be safe, he'd put resources into helping you hide. Or get you free._

"I need a favor. It's a huge favor, you could say," she said, hesitantly. Her fingers curled, crushing the origami napkin in front of her.

"And why would I do this favor?"

"Because I'm your daughter," Sydney said, obviousness dripping from her tone. Just then her phone lit up and she looked at it, pulling it into her lap. She didn't really see the message, only quickly replied:

_Fine. Talking to him._

Then she put it away again. Jared watched with a hint of coldness on his face, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair, raising his eyebrows.

"Because you're my daughter? That's funny. That thought didn't seem to occur to you before you got yourself into this mess," he said.

"I got into this mess because you got me into Alchemy -"

"You regret being an Alchemist?"

"I'm starting to. And I'm done doing it."

"You've been _done doing it_ for a long time. You didn't need my help for that."

"Officially. I'm sick of running. I'm sick of worrying about being dragged off for 'losing my way' or whatever label is put on people who make their own choices. I want to officially quit being an Alchemist and move on with my life."

"Quit being an Alchemist?" he asked, a little stunned, as if the concept was foreign. It probably was. Alchemists retired. They didn't quit. And Alchemists like her didn't have an option to retire because it was stemmed not from leading a fulfilling career, but from wanting to escape into an evil world. He stared at her, disbelieving.

"Yes," she said. "Can you give me that?"

"Immunity? You want me to remove the fugitive label from your name. Why?" he asked.

She swallowed. She could think of one hundred excuses, most of which would at least be five percent true. She didn't want to hide. She didn't want to be scared. She wanted to lead a normal life. But would he understand that? Her whole life, he'd moulded her to become a part of something bigger; to become a soldier in some sort of noble war against the evil. They were like the silent ants marching between the lines, creating boundaries and she'd blown apart every boundary she'd been taught to create.

"I just do. I don't want to be on the run."

"You've been in one country for two years. More than even a regular Alchemist can ask for."

"Yes, and I've done it because it's a refuge. I don't want to be on the radar anymore."

"Most fathers of young daughters would be alarmed by such a request to start over. What are you, accidentally pregnant?" he said, giving a sarcastic laugh. Sydney froze in place. For somebody who'd been trained and paid to lie for most of her life, she sure did fail at maintaining a poker face from the man who taught her everything she knew. Or maybe she was good at a poker face, but he just happened to be better. Because he froze in place, all sense of pretense falling from his face as he stood up, hand slamming down on the table. People turned to look and Sydney leaned back in her chair, body coiled for any verbal attack she was surely about to receive. But she didn't break the stare. Jared stared at her, a variety of emotions flitting through his eyes. Anger, hurt, shock, irritation, disgust, more disgust. She was sure he even looked a little green. It made her want to leave. Her baby was beautiful. Not disgusting. She crossed her arms as he sat down again, loosening his collar button.

"You're pregnant," he stated, not even bothering to confirm that fact. He knew. He just knew, like he always knew everything.

"Irrelevant," Sydney replied. "I still want my freedom."

"Tell me that's a human baby," Jared whispered. For one weak moment she considered lying and saying yes. But she didn't. She wasn't ashamed of Adrian or what they had. Not in the least. Why lie just to get some approval? She'd broken free of that habit a long time back.

"Irrelevant," Sydney stressed and her father actually picked up the napkin to press to his face, looking greener than before.

Ten full minutes of silence remained suspended between them, during which Sydney excused herself to go to the bathroom. It was a semi risky move since he could easily have the place surrounded by a couple of phone calls. But she had to give both of them some breathing room before they blew up at each other. She'd never really fought with him before - especially not while being in her right mind. She stared at her reflection, putting her hands under the spray of cold water. The sound irritated her like always, which is why she let her fingers be coated for a second before she shut the tap off. She pressed the damp fingers to her cheek, letting her face cool down. Then she quickly wiped her hands and the streaks on her face. She put a hand on her flat abdomen, looking at it in the mirror.

"It's going to be okay," she said out loud, moving her hand away and walking out the bathroom. She sat at her seat again. There was a cup of coffee sitting in front of Jared now who looked more calm, though still a little green in the face. She sat straight, putting her hands on the table.

"Dad -"

"Okay. There are only two options here right now. I will lay them down clearly in front of you and you can choose which one you'd like," he said in one breath and she could till his voice sounded a little constricted.

She silently waited to hear what he had to offer.

"You can give this nonsense up right now. Come back home. You don't have to do Alchemy, nobody will send you to reeducation. Your mother would really like that, as would your sisters, I'm sure. Take some time off to move past this phase of yours," he said, waving his fingers dismissively and looked at her, expecting her to magically jump at it or something. She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

"What's the catch?"

"First? We get that _thing_ out of you -"

"You come near my baby and you will regret coming near me," Sydney said before she could really hold her tongue. Her crossed arms tightened, hugging herself protectively as she sat rigid. As if she'd leave Adrian and get rid of their child just like that. She'd be damned before anybody took that baby out of her before it was fully grown and at a point to come into this world.

"I thought you'd say something like that."

"Then why did you even offer?" she coldly replied, her body still tight from the empty abortion suggestion. The mere idea of it made her want to throw up right there. She wanted this baby; she loved this baby already. She would do anything to keep it with her.

"Had to try. Okay. Option number two," Jared said, his voice tighter. "You get off the radar. And I mean nobody actively scopes you. No need to fear reeducation. You can live your life the way you obviously so want to. You can keep that basta - "

"_Don't_."

"You understand what I mean?" he asked. She looked at him, his eyes boring into hers, eyebrows raised like he was trying to convince a client. She felt uneasiness course through her again. That is exactly what she wanted. But if that had been an option, she'd have been given it years ago without all the pain and horrors.

"What's the catch?" she whispered, somehow already knowing that this was the sacrifice bit.

"When I say off the radar, I mean off the charts. All your Alchemist achievements will be null and void. Any records of offenses, credits, history, past, crime records, etc etc will all be destroyed. Rejoining will not be an option. All our resources such as fake document makers, Alchemist funds, that ability to do whatever, be whoever with a snap of a finger? You won't have any of that. You'll be on your own."

"And?"

"And what? What more do you need? It's a decent deal, Sydney."

She shook her head, narrowing her eyes.

"What about the money I already have? The one I earned since I was seventeen years old?"

"You can keep it, if you haven't burned through it already? I'm assuming it's under an alias of some sort, since it's untraceable. Clever and expected. We won't take it back. Bad investment."

She wanted to snort. Bad investment. Ouch. There would've been a time that would've broken her heart. She felt an elation flit through her. This was exactly what she wanted. This was everything she needed. Why had she been so scared to approach him before? Why had she -

"You can also forget about coming home."

"I-what?"

He stood up, rebuttoning his blazer as he put a few bills on the table. He started to move out of the restaurant and she grabbed her purse and phone, trailing after him, her heart falling to the pit of her stomach.

"You can forget about coming home," he repeated, turning to her. His voice sounded less eerie out in the open, with the sound of cars and people surrounding them as she stood in front of him on the sidewalk outside. "You are to not contact me, your mother or your sisters. In fact, nobody you know in our family from either side of the family. You can forget about the fact that you even have a family. You call us, we will treat you like a stranger. I am done chasing after a petulant child like you. I have better things to do than wake up in the middle of the night and calm your mother down from worrying about you. I have zero hope for you. You have kicked your job, your faith, your sense of humanity. Everything we gave you, you have thrown away," he said, walking up to her. She didn't even have it in her to take a step back as he put his hands on her shoulder. She just stared at him, her mouth agape, suddenly feeling like a seventeen year old again.

"I am done chasing you. You do whatever you want. But you are done being a part of this family. Your last name is nothing but a filler. Your inheritance, any private resources which our family has, are no longer yours. Not the family account. Not our lawyer. Not our homes. Nothing. You are done existing for me. You are done existing for any of us. Is that what you want?" he asked and she winced. His fingers were digging in her shoulder bone and it was starting to really hurt as much as the hole being blown in her chest right then.

"You're…disowning me?" she asked, eyes wide.

"Yes, yes I am. You choose that second option, Sydney Katherine and I will walk away knowing that I have only two daughters. Is that what you want?" he asked, shaking her a little. She winced again.

"You're hurting me," she whispered. His grip tightened.

"What?"

"You're hurting me," she repeated, looking at him, unsure what kind of hurt she meant. He grit his teeth and then let her shoulders go. She staggered back as the blood returned to the spot but she barely felt it. She felt dizzy. She felt sick. She felt…she felt alone.

"_Christ is become of no effect unto you, whosoever of you are justified by the law; ye are fallen from grace,"_ he whispered, shaking his head and she felt her heart tear a little bit. "Only God can save your soul now. I really hope He finds something worth redeeming in it because as far as I can see, there's a special place in hell for people like you."

He stared at her for one moment, shaking his head at her and then got into his car. It pulled out of the parking spot and sped away. She continued standing there, rooted to the spot, unsure as to what had exactly happened. Maybe she hadn't heard him right. Maybe she was immune to reacting to something like that after what she'd been put through. But her knees still felt weak as she moved out of the way of the pedestrians, leaning against the brick wall of the restaurant. She was off the hook. She was free.

She was also without a family. Like her parents had only had two daughters. Her achievements, her records, all erased. Like she'd…never existed. Back in Palm Springs, when she'd stopped Adrian from putting himself down for somebody as ignorant as his father, she thought it was an easy advice to follow. She was put in a much easier position than he had been. Her father had watched as she'd been tortured. He'd told her to get rid of her baby. But still…she felt empty. Like..she'd rather have his anger than his ignorance. Her whole life her father had disapproved of her. He'd never ignored her actions. She felt her breath leave her lungs as she put her hands on her knees.

Erased. Like she'd never existed.

"_Tutto bene, signora_?" came a voice and she looked up to see the waiter from before, looking concerned. She blinked in confusion.

"Are you okay?" he asked again, his accent thick as he hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder. It still throbbed from before and she shied away. The waiter pulled away immediately, apologizing. "Water?" he asked and she shook her head, stumbling for a second before she turned to walk back in the direction of the hotel. The summer heat made her head hurt as she walked through the tourist crowd, pulled in different directions by vacationing families and honeymooning couples and solo travelers with wanderlust. None of them pulled her from the edge of the tunnel of grief she was teetering over. She should be happy. She should feel better. But she didn't. She felt like she'd had a rug snatched out from under her.

She pulled out her phone, her fingers shaking as she typed a text to Adrian.

_It's over. I'm off the hook. Get the car out front? I just want to go back home._

Behind the upbeat text, she felt her heart crumble and fall to pieces. Like it had never existed either.


	6. Monster In Law To Be

_**A/N: Thank you to the reviewer who pointed out my typos from the previous chapter. This should teach me not to type at 4 am. **_

_**Also, guys, this is just a friendly reminder that while these oneshots are set in the same universe, they are not in chronological order. I'm just having a lot of muse for Sydrian's future so I've set the last few oneshots in that timelines. I'll get back to the beginning, towards how she gets out of re-education, copes with it, etc. etc. Don't worry.**_

_**Disclaimer: The Romitri baby which is mentioned in this drabble is not of my creation and is specific to a certain roleplay pair. I know in the canon universe it's not possible for two dhampirs to have children. The flawless backstory to that plot belongs to Sam (guardianrosemhathaway) and Kate (deathin-adusterx) on tumblr.**_

* * *

Sydney was tired. So, so tired. It wasn't the jetlag, to be honest. That had been a little easier to deal with since, apart from the time reset, there had also been a schedule reset. It had been years since she'd been on a nocturnal schedule. Sometimes she wished she wasn't. She'd rather walk through the Court in the dead silence of the "night" than walk through their idea of a day and be subjected to the whispers and the stares. The number of labels she'd had put on her was extraordinary. It's not like people didn't know who she was. She'd been a part of the crazy war which had taken place a few years ago between the Moroi and the Warriors of Light and the Alchemists. She'd also been the Alchemist to run away with the 'Ivashkov brat'. Even if her tattoo hadn't been touched up in almost three and a half years, the faint dull gold on her cheek was still there and something easily visible to dhampir and Moroi.

She pressed a hand to her forehead, her other hand clicking the remote buttons for something decent to watch on TV. She was alone at home - temporary home - and she was bored. She was bored and she was tired and she was the size of a small house and it annoyed her to no end. Also, she'd barely slept during the day because every time she came close to nodding off, the baby kicked her awake. Sydney fidgeted on the couch, eyeing the movie credits which were rolling on screen. According to the TV guide, some period movie was on next. She could handle those.

As soon as the opening scene rolled in, though, there were three sharp knocks on the door. She looked up, frowning. Adrian would use the key. And she hadn't expected anybody else. Then again, the thing with living on Court was that the people, who you owed your life to, were allowed to come calling any second. Still, she felt a tinge of annoyance. Standing up, she really hoped it was somebody she knew well. She was in no condition to receive guests right now. Not at nine in the night - which was morning for almost everybody here.

She opened the door and her eyes went wide. The first thing she noticed were the green eyes which seemed to be cooly studying her. She'd been wrong. Adrian wasn't the only person who had so much green in his eyes. His mother did too. Sydney had really hoped Adrian would be here for this moment. One of the more surprising news she'd received (she didn't know if it had been a surprise for Adrian too or if he'd known beforehand) was that Daniella Ivashkov had been released on parole. This was not how she wanted to meet her - messy hair, barefoot and a slightly crumpled sundress. So much for good impressions. Sydney wasn't the sort of person to try and impress royalty, especially not the Ivashkovs; but she'd really wanted to get on Daniella's good side. She was the only living family of Adrian's who's opinion he seemed to care about.

She stared for a few seconds, taking in the older woman's rich purple cocktail dress, gorgeous brown hair (it seemed to have the barest hint of chestnut highlights which Adrian's hair had when he stood in the light) which was half pulled back and her immaculate make up. She looked like she'd stepped out of a 60s sitcom.

"Miss Sage," Daniella greeted, smiling politely. Sydney gaped for a second before she collected herself, tucking back a lock of her hair as she returned the polite smile.

"Mrs. Ivashk -"

"Daniella, please," the older woman said, the smile still intact. Sydney hesitated before amending her words.

"Daniella. Please, come in," she said, opening the door wider. Daniella walked in, surveying the little apartment, two guardians trailing after her like shadows. Most royalty had a guardian who weren't always visibly there. But after the Queen's abduction a few years back, they probably felt obliged to keep an eye on their charges. Also, Sydney was sure this was part of the parole sentence and Daniella didn't really have an option about where the guardians followed her.

The apartment was fabulous, no doubt. It was on the Moroi court property, and Queen Vasilisa was also one of Adrian's good friends. That was Sydney's only real immunity. Nobody could actively say something to her because of it - though she suspected the whispers hadn't died down. But sometimes Sydney felt bad for the Queen. After the drama which had unfolded with the Warriors of the Light and their attack on the monarchy, she'd had to come home to dealing with the law and now, she would probably be judged for remaining on good terms with a rebellious Ivashkov and his "blood whore" girlfriend.

"Lovely place you have," Daniella said, taking a seat without Sydney offering. The blonde hurried to turn off the TV as she stood awkwardly.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked, after a second of silence.

"Do you have tea?" Daniella asked and Sydney nodded. She hated tea, but she'd bought it anyway. She refused to drink hot chocolate and her love for hot beverages could not extend to coffee other than after beakfast. She moved to the kitchen, putting a kettle on and turned around to go back. Except Daniella was standing in the kitchen doorway. Sydney almost jumped. People really needed to stop doing that. It's like they forgot she didn't have their super hearing.

"When are you expecting the baby?"

"Two more months," Sydney replied, leaning against the kitchen counter as she waited for the water to boil. She felt a nervous fluttering inside her and she unconsciously put a hand on her belly, tapping her fingers softly.

"Is it safe to travel so late?" Daniella asked and Sydney shook her head.

"No, we aren't travelling until..after -"

"Right, you need a Moroi hospital so you can safely birth a dhampir. Of course. You don't have those, wherever it is you live?"

"W-We do. But we wanted to be here to meet Rose and Dimitri. We weren't around when Anya was born and we wanted to be here to meet their other little one when he or she arrived and..it seemed right to have the baby here. I mean, it's home for both of us," Sydney said, and then caught herself. Why was she explaining herself to her?_ It's the eyes_, she told herself. _You're just not used to seeing them on somebody else_.

"Of course," Daniella smiled as if she knew a secret which Sydney didn't. Sydney frowned at that, looking away. She hated that feeling of not having some sort of information, or a secret relevant to her being kept from her. There was a sharp hiss of the kettle and Sydney turned around, busying herself with making the tea.

"One sugar, no lemon for me," Daniella said and Sydney nodded, handing her the tea and lightly sipping on her own. Immediately she felt a little calm. But she would never tell Adrian this. He'd tease her to no end, especially because the first time she'd bought it, she'd cursed it to oblivion. She was supposed to be Team Coffee and here she was toeing the line - _that is not your problem, Sydney. You have a bigger problem right now and she's drinking tea in your kitchen_, a voice in her head told her.

"Adrian's not at home," Sydney said after a few moments, sitting on the breakfast counter stool, since Daniella didn't look like she was moving anytime soon. How on earth was she comfortable standing in those heels?

"I'm not here for my son. I'm here to see the woman he says he's in love with."

Sydney grit her teeth at the skepticism which seemed to be dripping from her words. Immediately, she felt herself tense and there was a sense of sinking inside her chest. She could see that look in Daniella's eyes - although it was a look she was not used to seeing in that particular shade of green. A look which completely lacked confidence. She should've seen this coming, really. How stupid was she to think that Daniella Ivashkov would approve of an Alchemist - ex fugitive Alchemist - for her son? She put her cup of tea on the breakfast counter and folded her arms in a defensive posture.

"He _is_ in love with me. He's told me enough times and I trust him," Sydney replied in an even tone.

"That's good. Good for you, Miss Sage. I don't doubt that my son is head over heels for you," Daniella said, straightening up as she put her tea cup on the counter, too. "But he's been there before. And you're not the first woman who I've had to request to let him down easy. Who'd have thought that my son, who used to pride himself as a lady's man, could be in danger of having his heart shattered twice in a row?"

"Then it's a good thing he's not in danger of it -"

"It's the baby, isn't it? It's not officially an Ivashkov but...it's still subject to an inheritance," Daniella said, interrupting her once more. Sydney physically leaned back, completely flabbergasted. Her face must've shown how horrified she was because even the older woman winced lightly at the harsh delivery of her words. She held a hand up, shaking her head. "I apologize. I shouldn't -"

"Are you insinuating that I'm trapping your son using a baby?" Sydney said, her mouth dropping open. That was the least thought out thing she'd ever heard in her life - and she'd worked with Angeline. She and Adrian loved their baby dearly. Sydney wasn't some gold digger. She'd made fabulous money as an Alchemist, without being disowned by a family she loved. She'd been sent to reeducation for being with Adrian. Didn't Daniella already know that? She seemed to know everything else.

"That's not how I meant to -"

"Are you forgetting that your son was broke when I met him? Cut off from all assets?" Sydney bit back, standing up. She really didn't want to since she was starting to get comfortable on the seat but she'd also had enough of being looked at the way Daniella was looking at her right now. Daniella closed her eyes briefly at her retaliation. So she _had_ forgotten that little fact.

"You're right. That was rude of me. But can you really blame me?" Daniella asked.

"Yes, I can," Sydney replied. "You're so bent about the fact that your son does nothing according to what you and your husband want, that you want his marriage to be perfectly planned with no scandal. You want to be able to say that he came to his senses and took charge of his life. You want him to find a beautiful Moroi girl who has a good name and a good nature and get settled, make a few babies and have a great life story to share at Thanksgiving dinners."

"That's not what I meant. I don't want my son to get hurt."

"Why do you find it hard to believe that somebody like me could give him that great life story? Just because it's not planned by somebody other than him? Your son is never going to have the future you want because your son isn't perfect. He's far from it. And it's not because of spirit. It's because nobody's perfect. But I don't mind that. I'm okay with him being just the way he is, as long as he recognizes his own potential. You've never seen that. All you've seen is a son who looks so handsome that hopefully, one day, when he learns to listen to you everybody will look at that and forget everything else he's done. That's not going to happen. Adrian is five times better than the pretty face you've given him. He'll get his fairytale ending. But not because it'll be perfect and everybody will approve, but because he'll have a happily ever after."

Sydney took a deep breath, sitting down again as she took a sip of her slightly cooler tea. Her throat hurt a little from saying all that, and she was one hundred percent sure she'd overstepped five different boundaries. Adrian would not be happy with her. But, frankly, with the number of times she'd probably gotten on his nerves over the last couple of months, she was getting used to snapping first and thinking after.

She snuck a look at Daniella, who seemed to be absorbing the words which Sydney had thrown at her. She felt a little bad, but not enough to take them back. Somebody had to tell them to her. Adrian probably never would - his mother seemed like the only real family he had who loved him. Sydney didn't doubt that Daniella loved her son. She knew, now, what it was like to be biologically programmed to another person. But how she showed that love seemed to hurt Adrian more than help him.

"That's a very strong opinion you have of me for somebody who doesn't know me," Daniella finally said, her voice tight.

"_You_ called _me_ a gold digger. You have strong opinions about me, too. Based on rumors, no less," Sydney replied.

"Tell me, honestly, Miss Sage. You can't be deaf to the things everybody's saying about the two of you. Do you really want to be the reason he's made to endure all of that?"

"He knew what he was doing when he got into a relationship with me. You have to stop undermining him."

"I don't -"

"But you do! Both of you do and he suffers for it!"

"I have done nothing but support my son through everything he's done," Daniella said, taking a step closer, her voice slipping up on the composure she'd seemed so good at.

"Have you? Or have you just brushed it under the carpet because 'oh he's just a child' or 'oh he'll learn' or...wait, this one's the best: 'oh, he's just Adrian, it's what he does'. Except, no. He's not_ just_ Adrian and no, he won't just learn. You want him to do something in life? You hold expectations. And expectations you know he can meet, unlike what his father does. You both are the worst extremes when it comes to him. What has he done to deserve that? Just because he wasn't like the other kids and didn't have a 'helpful' element? Because your tea party friends looked at him with pity? Have you even tried to understand the darkness that entails with his magic? Can you imagine a little boy going through that? Whatever he does, that you don't understand, it's_ just a phase_."

Daniella didn't answer that, but she seemed to be shooting daggers at Sydney. The younger woman crossed her arms, standing up again. She lowered her voice to something less condescending, some of the fight leaving her as the dull ache returned to her back, reminding her how tired she'd actually been all night/morning. Her patience was running thinner with every second and while, on some level she was aware of how she was basically attacking Daniella, a major part of her was just tired of hearing how nobody thought Adrian had done right in choosing her.

"Look, I know you think you're doing what's right for him. But you're protecting him from all the wrong things. If you want to protect him, protect him from the amount of people who have zero confidence in him, or the ones who think he's useless. I'm not saying baby him, but let him know you're really there for him instead of just waving your hand and not even noticing what you're saying you're supporting him for. He has come so far - he went to college and enjoyed it. He furthered his magic to help people he loved, he moved to a whole new city, he got a job, he lives with me, we pay rent. We live our lives like normal people with no inherited assets. And you know what? We're happy. We're so, so happy. Please, don't doubt your son's happiness."

Daniella stared at her, eyes narrowed before she walked out of the kitchen. Sydney closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, already starting to realize how she might've potentially screwed up any hope of a decent familial relationship between her future mother-in-law and anything that might've been between her kid and his or her grandmother. She took a deep breath, mentally apologizing to Adrian. She'd also have to apologize when he came home. What if Daniella held this against him? No, she wouldn't do that. Would she?

Sydney slowly trailed out to the living room, where there was a small frame sitting on the coffee table. It was the only personal furnishing they'd done to the place because it was really, a temporary stay until they returned to Rome. The metal frame held a picture of Sydney and Adrian in their apartment balcony. It wasn't a very spectacular background but he'd said the light was catching right - or something - and had roped her into taking a picture. Taped to the frame was a printout of the baby's ultrasound. Daniella was staring at it with crossed arms, and turned around when Sydney came in.

"I know you don't understand where I'm coming from. Not yet, anyway. But you will someday. I'm never going to think you're good enough for him. I didn't think Rose was, nor any other girl he's ever brought around or been seen with. But that's only because I think my son deserves somebody perfect. I know you don't get that now, but when you'll have that baby and hold it in your arms, you'll know the feeling of never wanting anything less than the perfection of that child being near him or her. And I'll also never be okay with him being with a human because of the amount of gossip and the name calling he's being subjected to. I'm sure you understand that, what with the number of people who've called you out on mothering a bastard child."

Sydney stared, her hand resting on her baby bump as she watched Daniella walk towards the door. Had she really been unfair by trying to tell her how she should be treating her own son? It's not like she had any personal motherly experience. But it was right of her to say those things...right? Somebody had to show Adrian's parents how much they hurt him on a daily basis. Who else would even have the inclination to do it? Who else would have the chance? No. No, she wasn't the one who was wrong here.

"But someday you'll have to accept the fact that he has another woman in his life and that there's somebody else who also loves him, even if it's in a different way than you understand," Sydney protested, a furrow appearing between her brows.

"Are you sure I'm the one who has to come to terms with that. Or is that something _you_ have to accept?" Daniella said, before she put on the same smile she'd had when she first walked in. She nodded at the guardians who were studiously ignoring both of them and opened the door to the apartment.

"It was lovely seeing you, Miss Sage. Such a shame we didn't get to spend more time. Perhaps I'll be able to stay for dinner next time."

Then she closed the door, leaving Sydney standing alone and more tired and confused than ever.


	7. Story Reposted

**STORY REPOST.**

**Guys, this isn't an update but some unfortunate news. My first chapter 'Drip, Drip, Drip' got reposted as another story on this website. I'm really hoping it wasn't one of you gorgeous reviewers and followers, because I love you guys to bits and you make my day. But as honored as I am that you want work like mine under your page, it is plagiarism. Now, the chapter wasn't copy pasted, which is why I had to wait for a little before posting this note (given how many reeducation stories there are under the Bloodlines archive). But there were instances which were clearly ripped off - the sequence of events, right down to when she goes to the bathroom and when she gets questioned, some of the dialogues, the flashback sequence in the rain, the phrasing and descriptions which wereplayed around with for certain "customization" and the general tone of the entire story. Now, this really hurt me and pissed me off. Especially since these drabbles originate from an idea which wasn't just my own but also furthered by one of my closest friends who roleplays the Adrian to my Sydney and is the person who helped me most with these chapters. **

**I'm not posting this so you guys can spread hate or harass the individual who reposted it - although the author wrote an AN saying she was inspired by some stories which she/he couldn't remember where they read. *eyeroll* Regardless, what I could use help with is passing the word around that THIS is the original work and although these characters belong to Richelle Mead, the intellectual property of this story is mine. PLEASE, and thank you. The reposted work is called "Re-reduction" and is posted by an author called SydrianRock. I've sent them a message but I'm posting this here, regardless. Thank you so much. Any and all help is appreciated.**

**Brooke xx.**

**Edit (4th June): So, the author who reposted my work apologized and took down the story. I don't know what they plan on doing now, but I'm still leaving this notice up here as a reminder that plagiarism is not okay and that if you try it with my work, I will find out and it won't be pretty. As for all of you readers who provided support, silent or otherwise, thank you so much. I love you guys. And an actual update will come soon. I'm going down to the beach for a few days - lots of muse to go around. **


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